White Rain
by desert anbu
Summary: An excerpt from the journal of Virginia Malfoy, formerly known as Ginny Weasley. Please R&R!


Just where I got this idea, I haven't the slightest clue. It just came to me and... Yeah. My sister told me that it reminds her a bit of her own journal. *laughs* I suppose that might be where I got the overall feel of it from. Anyway, this is my first Draco/Ginny ship, so I hope you like it! Some spoilers for those of you who haven't read the fifth book, Order of the Phoenix!  
  
A huge thanks goes to my beta-reader and one of my very best friends, SeverusSnape. She's totally awesome and usually the first to hear about my ramblings. ^.~ Thanks so much! *hugs* You're the best!  
  
Anyway, I hope you like it! And as always, please, please, please review! Feed the aspiriting authoress! *widens eyes and pouts* 

**White Rain**

  
  


The first thing that ever comes out of anyone's mouth when they see me and realize that I am now Mrs. Malfoy is "Why the hell did you marry _that?_" Truth be told, I've asked that very same question countless times myself and have yet to come up with an answer. Although, I must say that _that_ is much nicer than anyone ever gave him credit for, as well as the fact that _that_ is the best damn kisser I have ever stumbled upon. And indeed, I stumbled upon him.

I had had my own fair share of encounters with Draco Malfoy during our years at Hogwarts together and I had no idea that the number one Sex God of the Slytherins would become my lawfully wedded husband two years after graduation. Our relationship had started in his seventh year when he had been doing his rounds as Head Boy and I had been climbing out of the portrait hole to sneak some midnight Quidditch practice in. I literally stumbled into him just as he was passing by and would have fallen flat on my face if he hadn't caught me. For a moment we had simply stared at each other, too surprised to say anything before I blushed and pushed away, straightening my robes. An argument ensued and he threatened to deduct points, but in the end, he ended up stalking off after I had furiously slammed the Fat Lady's portrait shut again and in the morning, there hadn't been any points removed from Gryffindor's total. That had been more than a little surprise.

To say that we bonded over Quidditch was an understatement. I played Chaser for the Gryffindor team beginning in my fifth year (having played Seeker for half of the season in my fourth year after Harry had been banned by that _toad_ Umbridge) and it seemed to be Draco's greatest pleasure to send the Beaters after me during the games. Harry and I became the top choices for the Bludgers, topping even Ron, which was strange considering the animosity between my brother and the blond Slytherin. Finally I had gotten fed up with his smug looks after I was forced to perform ungraceful barrel rolls in the air and I confronted him, yelling and screaming for him to stop being a prat (among other things too, of course). What annoyed me even more was the fact that he simply stated he was getting rid of competition, and if I had been thinking straight I would have realized that, coming from him, it had been a compliment. Then, after yelling myself hoarse I had sat down on one of the benches and he had had the nerve to kiss me! I couldn't believe it at the time, I mean, _Draco Malfoy?_ Kiss _me_, little Virginia Weasley? I think not.

But he did. He kissed me breathless and then stopped, looking at me as if to see how I took it. At first I was so angry with him and I had almost slapped him, but then I saw the uncertainty in his eyes, something that he normally would have hidden but had either forgotten or was taking a chance and letting me see and then I gave in. I had sighed and punched his arm lightly, calling him a prat one more time for good measure before I left him there.

A week passed where I stubbornly ignored him and tried to figure out what had happened when finally after Quidditch practice I was fed up with it. I had walked to my favorite tree to think about what had happened, hardly noticing that I was still wearing my Quidditch robes and that my broom rested against the trunk beside me, and I spent the rest of the afternoon there, mulling over everything that had happened. I have no idea when he decided to sit down beside me, but whenever it was, it was just after dinner and he was wearing his usual white dress shirt, charcoal trousers and school robes and for a long time, neither of us said a word. For a few moments I took the time to study him out of the corner of my eye, taking in his immaculate appearance from his perfect silver-blond hair that remained carefully styled no matter the weather to his expensive, tailored clothing and the way that every part of his skin (that I could see, anyway. I found out about the rest later) was flawless. He was mysterious, quiet, unattainable. In a word, he was perfect. And when I saw that I decided that the world could go to hell and I turned his head with my fingers and kissed him and the rest, as they say, was history.

We met every chance we could, sneaking away whenever we had a free moment to be together, doing everything from studying, talking, and snogging (we did an awful lot of snogging). Draco helped me with my Potions homework (I had gotten an Outstanding in my O.W.L.s and had been placed in the Advanced Potions) and I helped him with Arithmancy whenever I could so we were even. Most times we lapsed into a companionable silence, sitting back to back in a classroom that had been empty for the past fifty years and do our homework, comfortable simply with the other's presence. Although, I must admit, there were times when we simply grew fed up with that and ended up on the floor, limbs tangled and clothes everywhere but on our bodies. At one point he had asked me if I was a virgin and didn't believe me when I told him I was. His exact words were a bit muffled because they were spoken against my shoulder, but I remember the general gist of it. Something about 'damn girl has a talented mouth for a virgin' or some such nonsense. It wasn't like I hadn't ever had a boyfriend before, because I had. In my fourth year I had dated Michael Corner (the _slimeball!_) and in my fifth year there had been Dean Thomas (who was absolutely adorable and would practice Quidditch with me when no one else would) and in my sixth... I was single for all of three months. And then there was Draco.

It's fairly pointless to say that we kept our relationship secret. What with the feud going between our families, the reasons were on lists miles long and neither of us really wanted to be disinherited and disowned at the same time so no one knew. At least until the end of my sixth year when he graduated. His graduation meant that we had to separate until the end of my seventh year and would not be able to see each other until then. I had cried for days at that prospect and he had later admitted to me that he hadn't shed a tear, but had sulked in his room for a week upon returning to the Malfoy Manor before he finally did something about it. Using his father's connections he got a job at the Ministry and began making money on his own, planning the day he would back out of his father's life entirely and take charge of his own. It hadn't been hard after that because with his new job and the endless amounts of money at his disposal, Draco was able to take a few days off when I went on holiday or on trips to Hogsmeade and we would meet at the Leaky Cauldron or a far more obscure place and catch up on the times. We owled weekly (although he was often too busy to write more than a few lines, I poured my heart out to him) and the days spent with him became my salvation during the year. With my friends Colin Creevey (who had grown to be quite a handsome blond over the years) and Natalie McDonald constantly badgering me to get a boyfriend (they both had their own love interests at the time) I was stressed and ended up telling them that I really did have a boyfriend, he just went to another school. That had shut them up for all of two minutes before they bombarded me with questions like 'what's he look like?' and 'where's he from?' and 'how old is he?' and even 'have you shagged him yet?'

Draco, of course, had found this insanely hilarious. The bastard.

But his little gifts won me over and I stopped getting mad at him so often (although I still got annoyed with him from time to time because he insisted on being a prat and continue provoking Ron, even though he was an Auror) and it seemed enough to satisfy my friends' curiosity when a single red rose would arrive by owl post in the morning, perfect even to the drop of dew charmed to keep from evaporating or slipping off. It was the most beautiful gift I had ever received in my entire life and I almost burst into tears right then and there. I told Draco later just how much I liked it and he seemed to be extremely pleased with himself.

Probably the sweetest (and quite possibly the corniest) thing he had ever asked me was, "Have you ever seen an angel?" I had had no idea what he was talking about and apparently my expression told him that because he had shrugged and gave me one of those little smirks. "Well you must have, considering you look in the mirror at least once every morning."

Like I said, it was corny. But like they say, it's the thought that counts. And the thought was rather cute.

All right, I've said a few stupid things, too. Although, seeing the look on my brother's face when I answered his question (you know. The one that _everyone_ always asks me: "Why the hell did you marry _that?_") with "Because he looks dead sexy in black?" I thought he was going to have a heart attack. I have no idea _why,_ I mean, he _does_ look dead sexy in black (and even sexier in nothing at all, but I wasn't about to tell my brother _that_) and it's not like I'm a little girl anymore. I think it was the word 'sexy' coming out of my mouth that did it, or maybe it was the fact that I was saying that about his childhood arch-nemesis.

But quite frankly, I didn't give a damn. Because it was _true!_ ...And because I couldn't think of a better answer at the time, but that's beside the point.

It was in winter, just five months after I had graduated from Hogwarts and somehow Draco had managed to get off work long enough to visit me at the Burrow and had insisted on dragging me outside to build a snowman when I realized just how much he meant to me. We got about halfway done with the bottom half when he decided that wasn't fun enough and lobbed a snowball at me. That was the start of a war full of yelps and peals of laughter and snowballs volleying back and forth between us. I have no idea how long it lasted, nor do I have even an inkling to the amount of snowballs we threw, but I do know this: at one point or another it became a game of tag and that was where things changed. He had tackled me and pinned me to the ground, sending up clouds of powdery snow and then somehow got it into his head (I'm not even going to _attempt_ to figure out which one) that it was a good time to kiss me.

I've mentioned this before, and I'll mention it again: Draco Malfoy is the best damn kisser that I have ever stumbled upon.

And then - because Draco Malfoy can't just kiss a girl, _oh no!_ He just _has_ to drive her crazy by doing something _else_ too - he tickled me. I still regret the day I told him my sides are ticklish. I can't remember when he stopped, but I didn't stop giggling for a while even after he did and when I finally was able to look at him I saw that he was gazing down at me with a tiny, genuine smile on his face and I think that was when I fell in love with him. To see Draco Malfoy smile is like seeing magic for the first time because with him, you know it's real (it's quite obvious to know when it isn't, because then it's either a smirk or a sneer), and you know you've earned it. His stormy gray eyes were gazing down at me with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, the tiny pull on his lips the barest hint of a smile, and his silver-blond hair had fallen from its usual style (I had gotten him to stop slicking it back, he simply pushed it back with his fingers) and shadowed his brow. Snow was still falling and we both had little snowflakes dusting the shoulders of our winter coats (he, of course, was wearing black while I was wearing burgundy, and I have no idea why I remember this, but his coat didn't seem to have any buttons but it stayed closed anyway, probably with a spell) and the sun was just behind the clouds and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.

Draco insists that I wasn't looking at the scenery at all and simply had found him to be beautiful, and even though that was quite possibly true, I couldn't let him win that argument because he didn't need the ego boost (honestly! I mean, he's got quite a big ego without _me_ interfering) and I kept denying it simply to keep him from having a swelled head. But then, because he's Draco, it never really works. Especially when he pouts. I hate it when he does that. He _knows_ how cute he is when he pouts and truthfully, it is quite impossible to deny him anything because he always finds a way to make me feel like he deserves it and I _should_ give him what he wants as a gift of some sort. Unfortunately, over the years, he's found just what buttons he needs to push and he does it with frightening ease. Although, I suppose I should be glad that he doesn't ask for much, actually. Usually (I always laugh hysterically when I realize how strange this sounds) he just wants a hug. He never _says_ he wants one, nor does he stand there with his arms open waiting for me to come, he'll just go about his usual business but I _know_ he wants me to hold him. It's the way he stands and will occasionally glance at me and give me one of those beautiful smiles that always melt my heart - and quite often my knees at the same time which is highly annoying - and then go back to work. It's not like I don't _want_ to hug him (he's deliciously warm, despite his cold exterior), it's more that I don't want to spoil him (although I should say that he's already spoiled rotten so I really didn't have anything to do with it because it's all his mother's fault).

Christ, why _did_ I marry him?!

I've been staring at what I've written for the past ten minutes in a state of bewilderment and still can't seem to find a reason. But that's not true. I _do_ have a reason, and it's a bloody good one. Simply put, I love him. And I know that he loves me. Not only that, but he did the absolute _sweetest_ thing at our wedding.

I have no idea why (I've given up asking him because he'd quite skillfully change the subject) Draco wanted a Muggle wedding, but he did. I think it may have had something to do with the white dress and the tux (which I must admit that he looked absolutely _edible_ in that. Then again, he's dead sexy in black) but, because he's Draco, it's quite possibly something entirely different and I don't think I'll ever know. He got the idea from a conversation we had had a year before (which I was - and still am - astonished that he remembered) during a rainstorm. I had been staring up at the sky and he had asked me what I was thinking about and I had told him that I had always wanted to see white rain. At first he had seemed a bit amused and he asked why. I really didn't (still don't) know why. Maybe because the thought of white rain brought on the sense of purity, beauty, and something magical that I thought expressed just how much I loved him.

Wow, that was sappy.

All right, so I have no idea why I wanted to see white rain, but I did. And then as we were walking to the sleek black limousine (an absolutely gorgeous ride, I must admit. The Muggles are very bright about some things) it began to rain and I had to stop walking. It wasn't ordinary rain at all and I couldn't stop staring around us, my mouth hanging open in awe before I finally smiled brilliantly and began to laugh. It was white rain! The rain glistened like millions of tiny pearls and made the world seem to be covered in a light silvery-white mist and (we had gotten married at the Malfoy Manor, which had been given to him when his father finally croaked a year after he saw his son graduate) the rolling hills behind the manor seemed like a cluster of emeralds, sapphires (Narcissa Malfoy seemed obsessed with blue flowers) and pearls. In a word, it was beautiful. And he had done it just for me. Just for me because he knew that I had always wanted to see white rain. I learned later that he had spent weeks calculating the right ingredients for the spells he had to perform, and weather magic is risky business, something that takes its toll on the wizard trying to manipulate it. Sure enough, the first day of our honeymoon he spent nearly the entire time sleeping so deeply that there was no way in hell that I could wake him (not that I tried, mind you. I knew he was tired and why and let him sleep). He more than made up for it the rest of the two weeks we spent in the Caribbean though, so I have no reason (not that I had one in the first place, but I'm trying to make a point here!) to complain.

We've only been married a year, but it feels like forever. Every night he'll return from work at the Ministry (he got a higher position once people realized that he wasn't a Death Eater after all) and I'll be sitting in my favorite chair, curled up with a book and a cup of tea waiting for him. Normally I'll also have a pile of parchment and several quills (most with broken tips and shredded ends, but I can't help it if being a reporter is frustrating!) beside me leftover from my current story for the _Daily Prophet_, but either way, it's always the same. He'll Apparate into the front hallway (because, God forbid Draco actually use something as crude as a _door_) and sweep off his cloak and saunter into the living room, where I always wait for him. Sometimes shadows will haunt his beautiful stormy gray eyes, and other times they're shining bright and mischievous, like the way they always were while we were dating.

I write this as we lie in our bed, his arms wrapped around me as he sleeps, my head propped up in my hand and my journal on the mattress beside me, a silencing spell on the quill so that he doesn't wake. His breathing is slow and each breath ghosts against the nape of my neck and I can feel his heartbeat from my back molded to his chest. I pause to turn my head and brush a stray strand of silver-blond hair from his face before I place a kiss on his brow and settle back against his warm embrace. The only indication that shows he felt my change in position is the way he slightly tightens his grip around my waist and I can't help but smile.

So, why did I marry Draco Malfoy? Because he's charming, and smart, and witty, and sweet, and sexy, and drop dead gorgeous. Because when I cry he will hold me and tell me that everything will be all right. Because only he can make me smile on a rainy day. Because when everything seems hopeless he promises me he'll make it better, and he's never yet broken a promise. Because seeing him smile can light up the world. And because he gave me white rain.

But most of all, it's because he's Draco Malfoy, my very own dragon and I love him with all my heart.

Ron still thinks he's a poncy git.

  
  


~*~ END ~*~


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